“Are There Ghosts on Christmas?”
Disclaimer: This narrative is a work of fiction, crafted solely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. The inclusion of any names, locations, or entities is not intended to reflect upon or represent anyone or anything in any way. All characters, places, and events are products of a creative invention and are not to be construed as factual or based on real-life occurrences.
On the eerie night of December 24, 2017, when I was merely 20 years old and my younger sister, a mere 10, we revelled in the joy of a festive Christmas Eve dinner, the scent of holiday delights wafting through the air. Our dining table groaned under the weight of a lavish buffet, promising a night of laughter and warmth.
After our scrumptious feast, we decided to immerse ourselves in a friendly game of Monopoly. I meticulously began to arrange the board on the bedside table to create an atmosphere of cozy and fun competition. The room was bathed in a dim, unsettling glow from the wall lights as the hum of the AC added an ominous undertone to the night.
The initial moments of the game were filled with joy and lighthearted banter. However, as time slipped away, an unexplainable shift permeated the atmosphere. Thirty minutes into the game, a sinister undertow gripped the room, and a sense of foreboding settled in.
Midway through a particularly intense round, my sister’s countenance transformed from exuberance to melancholy. Despite her winning streak, an unspoken terror flickered in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment before posing a question that sent shivers down my spine.
“Are there ghosts on Christmas?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Attempting to dispel her irrational fear, I reassured her, “Of course not! It’s a holy day, a time of joy and celebration.”
Her response, however, cut through the room like a chilling gust of wind. In a shrill whisper, she uttered words that froze the blood in my veins.
“Then what is that thing sitting on top of our cupboard?”
Dread clawed at my chest as I slowly turned to gaze at the cupboard looming in the corner. My heart pounded with a mixture of disbelief and terror, for there, atop the furniture, was the faint outline of a child-like figure. Its eyes glinting with silver streaks and an otherworldly glow.
The once-festive room now harboured an uninvited presence, casting a sinister shadow over our Christmas Eve. Little did we know that the joyous holiday had taken a nightmarish turn, and the innocent game of Monopoly had become an unwitting invitation to something far more chilling than any ghost story we had ever heard.
